the dream project

When I was a child I had a dream that I was walking through my parents woods. Suddenly, a giant thorny bush emerged on the path I was walking. Women's arms reached out of the bush and grabbed me from behind. Someone called to me in the distance (perhaps my mother). Clouds began to darken the sky. And I awoke.

My friend Vince is terrified of birds. Especially dead ones. One night he had a dream that he was visiting his aunt. On their way, they stopped at a park to play. His parents and brother got out of the car and began running, looking back and calling Vince to get of the car and follow. But Vince couldn’t move for the fear that gripped him. He lay in a jumbled mass in the back seat, petrified. You see, as Vince’s family trounced gleefully through the pretty park, they were treading on dead birds. Dead birds that covered all the ground in the park. Piles and piles of them. All the same, his family delightfully ran on.

What is the worst dream you've had (or the best)? Drop a post or drop me an e-mail.

walking

“you’ll think of something to write”, she said. “all of those firsts…” and there have been many this year. First full-time seminary load, first big move, first new area that kelli and i moved into together, and first baby. And Maia has had many firsts of her own. Rolling over for the first time, crawling, standing… and now—yes, that big one—walking. And so another monumental first is added to the list. On March 28th, our little daughter (at just over 9 1/2 months old) started walking.

And now she’s walking everywhere.

Her walking started with an uneasy side stepping, arms outstretched. (one friend said it looked as if she were dancing). But now, only one week since her first steps, she is setting about with full, hearty steps; at times even breaking into a bit of a run. She loves to walk about with her little yellow stuffed ducky, a toy doll nearly half her size. At times, she may drop ducky on the ground and stoop to crawl. But ducky gets stuck in-between her legs and he shuffles along with her still. Today, as we played a game of "hide-and-go-seek" (aka, "go-and-follow-daddy-as-he-hides-around-the-corner-and-calls-'Maia'") she barreled around the corner to find me. When she did, her face burst into a giant smile, and with outstretched arms she "ran" into her father's arms for a little hug.

So, as little Maia walks about, I’ll sit and wonder, grappling for more ways to write about all these firsts. The first teeth now protruding through her lower gums, the first little walking shoes sitting at the base of our front door… and the list goes on…

sunday storm

i never knew going to church could be such a dangerous venture. it's not normally, at least not until last night. as we drove to the evening meal and service at crossroads, the sky descended on us. demented twirls of cotton candy churned above us in varying shades of grey. God was readying his set. his latest short film was about to commence. it was old and familiar. aged to perfection. but still, it was new, dangerous... and strangely inviting. the actors in place, the quickly unfolding plot teased us with the threat of a tornado. the sirens screamed around the state, "GET INTO YOUR BASEMENTS. COLLECT YOUR CHILDREN. YOU ARE NOT SAFE". so we drove on.

a women seeking shelter ran her double-wide stroller up the hill next to Washington University. lights flickered. the red, yellow and green robots lost power as we approached an intersection. power lines exploded and sparked. and then the rain came. the key grips, summer interns and special effects assistants dumped their buckets down on us. and we watched. we watched and drove as the water turned to frozen, white peas; pelting us and driving us off of historic route 66 and indoors.

so we eat, we sang, we listened and we prayed and then the sun came out. the rain was gone... and our house's electricity had left with it. we returned to the darkness seeking candles and flashlights and batteries. in the calm, cool night air (the temperature had dropped from 80 to 55 in a few short hours) i sat on the porch talking with my brother. UFO's orderly lined up across the horizon, lazily waiting to descend upon Lambert International Airport. all was calm. the tree laying across Midland Blvd. had spared the ancient U-City home behind it. in a distant park more trees lay dead and uprooted. underneath one lay a hiker, Kent Cross (only 20 years old) the breath of life crushed out of him. another man's spirit departed from him when the roof of a clothing store fell on top of him. he was Delancey Moore, 54 years old. all of them victims. casualties to the sudden, angry burst of an early spring storm in st. louis.

and as i sat there on my front porch, in my fold-up camping chair, all was faded to black. the film short was over. spectators had been claimed, but not to the surprise of the director. the timing was perfect... everything went just as he had planned. why had things gone the way they had? who knows. why had the set exploded, claiming two lives? same answer. but i am confident that the director remains the director. i am confident that the funding for his next piece will not be denied. in fact, i know that now, right now, even as i type and the after-shocks of blustery wind pulsate outside, he is still directing. the story continues on... and so must i...

2 Weeks

Maia continues to grow strongly and boldly. She is transforming into a toddler before our very eyes. Each morning she greets us with a hearty smile. Each new day of life is a tiny adventure encapsulated between the time she is lifted out of the crib and the time she is laid back down.

It’s been two weeks now since she pulled herself up for the first time. Right in front of us. She grabbed the trunk in the middle of the living room, the one that acts as our coffee table, and did a pull up from her knees. It was a struggle that first time, but it is second nature now. In fact, Kelli says that much of her playtime is spent doing nothing… except standing. There have been moments when Maia has stood, balancing herself, holding onto nothing, for nearly ten full seconds. It seems that she’s dangerously close to walking.

The most exciting feat of all has proved to be the delight of an early morning crawl. It started off as a bit of a “gimp crawl”, one leg shooting straight out while the other acted as the bending mover. But now… now she has rid herself of this slight handicap and tackled the challenge with full force. There is nowhere her little legs won’t take her. If she tires of the toys in the living room, she lumbers into the kitchen—with a slap, slap, clump, clump of her hands and knees—to amuse herself with the barn-animal magnets on the fridge. We must take great caution now.

Every kitchen chair is a hazard, every unsuspecting picture frame or CD a swipe away from a catastrophic crash. When she stumbles and falls, she seldom cries anymore. She just picks herself up and keeps movin’. She is undaunted by redirection. If something is deemed off limits and her course changed, she’ll simply move onto the next thing. Of course, she often tests her limits, constantly returning to “no” territory. But it’s a joy to watch her continue to learn, to take the visually observed world to new levels with a new set of senses. So we’ll set up roadblocks as necessary, buy some spring-loaded hinges for the basement door and let the little baby go.

There’re Cheerios at the bottom of Maia’s highchair…

The other night, we introduced Maia to the child-hood favorite. That’s right, the famous General Mills “O”. As we place the first Cheerios before here, she’s not quite sure what to do with them. She struggles to pick one up, but, finally, manages to grasp one of the little “O’s” with her hand. Now she fumbles with both hands, fighting to get it into her mouth. Finally, after nine or ten innocent little hoops are sacrificed to the floor below, Maia gains success. The sensation of this solid food in her mouth is strange. With an uncertain frown, she cocks her head ever so slightly while chomping her gums and smacking her lips. She frowns a concentrated frown and stares with patient inquisitiveness at her mother and father, who are trying, rather hopelessly, to stifle intense laughter.

The cheerios have proven to be a new favorite for her. A couple of days later, Maia struggles with advanced proficiency to get them into her mouth. She uses her entire hand now to accomplish the task. But even then, she seems so enamored with the “o’s” that she can’t help but stick her finger back into her mouth, to play with the little thing. Inevitably it sticks to her finger and pops back out. No matter, it’s onto the next one.

So, our little daughter moves into the wild, crazy adventurous world of solid foods. The new tooth coming in on the bottom will probably prove to be frustrating at first, but the entire set that’s sure to soon follow will certainly prove to be more helpful in the long run.

toy barn

She fumbles with her little toy barn, banging together the small colored shapes, the impression of farm animals on the front of each. Blue triangle cow, green circle sheep, yellow pig star. She seems to know, with a faint understanding, that they somehow fit into the similarly shaped holes on the building’s façade. Then, exhausted from all the hard work, she grabs her water, grasping the cup with both her hands, and guzzles long and deep. When she no longer feels parched, she pulls the drink away quickly, nearly throwing it down to the ground and slamming it in front of her at the same time. But then she simply lets it slide out of her hands absentmindedly. While this is taking place, she gasps a sigh of relief, and catches her breath… “ahhhh….”. Then it’s back to work at the farm.

I think I’ll go get a drink myself…